


Orange is the New Weird

by Little_Bunny



Series: The Weird 'Verse [5]
Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Aftercare, Belts, Flogging, Handcuffs, Manhandling, Platonic BDSM, Platonic Relationships, Prison Guard Bergara, Prisoner Madej, Prisoner Roleplay, Queerplatonic Relationships, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:44:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22164886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Bunny/pseuds/Little_Bunny
Summary: Shane and Ryan are enjoying playing with the Big/little dynamic, but Shane's curious about more. He asks Ryan if they can try something different, something a little rougher.Ryan is game.And they've even got access to important props, assuming they raid the right prop closet.No one's little now, which is a little weird in and of itself.
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Ryan Bergara & Shane Madej, Ryan Bergara & Shane Madej & Sara Rubin, Shane Madej/Sara Rubin
Series: The Weird 'Verse [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1563661
Comments: 12
Kudos: 66





	Orange is the New Weird

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: There is some talk in this 'episode' for lack of a better word of the punishment of (a fictional version of) a child. Be aware, if that might be triggering. It is just conversation, and it is a few short paragraphs at most. 
> 
> Read the tags as well. We're still platonic, but this is not about little!Shane and CG!Ryan. They're trying something different this time!
> 
> And, standard disclaimer: This is about a fictional version of the media personas of the aforementioned individuals, and is not about and has no connection to any of these people or places in real life. This is an alternative universe unconnected to the real world where we live.

This shoot has been pretty nice, actually.

They don’t always travel for _ True Crime _, but it’s a pretty good moneymaker, so Buzzfeed okays the treasure hunting episode. They don’t find it of course; people who are much more prepared than them fail too. But Shane thinks up a good bit, so they film an unreliable ending for it. It will hopefully keep engagement buzzing right up through the beginning of their next season.

To Ryan, the nicest thing about it is that they aren’t in a dark, dirty, and haunted location. He’s a city boy through and through, but nature is nice too in relatively small doses. They basically get paid to play in the woods, and they get to go back to the hotel before it got dark. Win/win.

They have a couple of drinks with the crew at the hotel bar to celebrate the end of on-location filming for the season, but they aren’t drunk by any means. Ryan wouldn’t classify himself as even tipsy; he feels good, but that could honestly just be from finishing out another season of Unsolved. That's always a bittersweet sense of accomplishment.

They go back up to their room when the rest of the crew decides to do the same. The two of them are sharing a room again, and sit on Shane’s bed, dressed in sweatpants, eating bad local pizza out of the box and discussing the shoot. In the background, a local public access station plays some kind of documentary about a local art museum.

“I’m not sure it’s actually out there,” Shane, ever the skeptic, says. “The guy probably said that he hid it, and it’s actually in his living room under the coffee table or something.”

"That would be so mean," Ryan chortles around another bite of pizza. It's greasy as hell, and he knows he's gonna regret it tomorrow already. "Can you imagine though, how much of a kick he's getting out of all us idiots running around in the woods looking for it?"

"I mean, he's old," Shane points out. "You have to get your kicks somehow at that point."

"Well, and I legitimately think the point was to get people out in nature, so he did a pretty good job as far as that goes." Ryan lets out a burp and pats his stomach. 

"Yeah," Shane muses. "I'm not really one for, you know, athletics, but it was kind of nice to wander around in the woods."

"Oh, I know," Ryan says. It's not that Shane's in bad shape; he runs regularly. But Shane doesn't do sports, ever.

"Hey," Shane protests. "I upheld the family name admirably today, thank you!"

"Got a lot of athletes in the ol' Madej clan, do you?" Ryan snarks.

"You know it," Shane replies. He burps too. "God, this pizza was a bad idea. I'm going to be up all night with heartburn."

Ryan is tempted to tease him about being an old man, but he's not sure that he's immune from the same issues; the pizza is especially greasy. "Well, our flight is fairly late tomorrow," he says instead. "We can sleep in."

It’s quiet for awhile. They watch a tiny, elderly man explain the meaning behind the museum’s name.

Shane sighs and turns slightly towards Ryan. "Hey, so I've been thinking…"

"Don't hurt yourself," Ryan jokes.

"No, man, I'm serious. Can we talk?" Shane says, and suddenly that pizza feels more like a rock in his gut.

"Y-yeah, of course," Ryan says, cursing himself for the stutter. But his brain is going wild, wondering what Shane wants to talk about. Every option seems more terrifying than the last. “About what?”

There's a lot at stake between them these days.

"Breathe, Ry," he says, touching his shoulder, and that's a deliberate use of the name he uses when he's little, Ryan can tell, because Shane isn't remotely little right now. It does help, though, because Shane would _ never _ pull that out to drop a whammy on him, and also because it reminds Ryan of his own adult status, weirdly enough.

He takes a deep breath. "Sorry," he says. "You know I worry."

"You don't have to worry," Shane says. "I promise, it's not that serious."

Ryan re-calibrates his expectations, because Shane isn't done, isn't leaving (either the show or personally), and isn't angry. "Okay," he says. "Lay it on me, big guy!" He flops back dramatically on one of the pillows.

Shane snorts, but lets go of his shoulder to settle back against the headboard, his long legs stretching down the bed. Ryan sits up, cross-legged, watching Shane and picking at another slice of pizza that he doesn't really want.

"How well do you remember when we started all of, uh, this?" Shane gestures between the two of them to make his meaning clear, as though Ryan isn't ridiculously aware. "Like, that first night at BuzzFeed, on our set?"

"I don't know. A normal amount, I guess?" Ryan really doesn't know what Shane is getting at here. "Why?"

Shane drums his fingertips against his chin. "Do you remember when you asked me what I wanted from this?"

Ryan thinks back. He only vaguely remembers, remembers running down some options for how the scene could go. That was before the ‘little’ thing had even crossed his mind, before he'd ever tried it. "Kind of," he says. "I couldn't like, quote it for you or anything."

Shane's lips turn up just a little at the corner. "I mean, I wouldn't expect that," he says. "But do you remember asking me if I wanted, like, this or that? Like, struggling or, or obedience? That kind of thing?"

"Yeah," Ryan says. 

"I know we do the 'little' thing," Shane says, "and I, I love it, don't get me wrong, okay? I wanna keep doing it."

Ryan smiles. They've both come a long way since this started, because he doesn't feel like panicking anymore. This is about as normal a conversation as they ever have. "But…?" he prods.

"Well, you had other ideas," Shane said. "Like, like the prisoner roleplay?" He sounds a little hesitant. 

Oh yeah, Ryan does remember that. In its way, it kind of started all of this. "Yeah," he says. "Is, uh...is that something you want to try?"

Shane shrugs, then nods. "I think so," he says. "If you're willing. I want to talk about it, at least."

Ryan's willing, if slightly nervous. This is something that's a little more traditional BDSM. But he and Shane are about as comfortable together as two people can be at this point, so… "We can definitely try it if you want," Ryan says. "What were you thinking it would go like?"

Shane gives him a little grin. "Okay, so…"

* * *

Shane has learned the importance of a good costume by now. Since Sara bought him (them) that onesie, and Ryan got him the pacifiers, he has noticed that it helps him lose himself when he's got the right props to help. So he raids the prop closet at work to snag the orange jumpsuit he wore in the promo pictures for this season of _ True Crime _, as well as a set of handcuffs that are usually used to torture interns. 

The handcuffed videos are always a hit. He's not sure how he and Ryan managed not to get pulled into that, but he's grateful nonetheless.

They end up using his and Sara's home office as their set. Ryan had offered to bring him to an actual BDSM dungeon, but Shane had felt too chicken. That wasn't a thing he wanted video evidence of online, and it only took one fan with a cellphone to ruin everything. And although they had risked it once, BuzzFeed was right out. 

They liked their jobs. It had been sheer luck that they hadn't been discovered. And although BuzzFeed has a relaxed atmosphere, doing BDSM on an unused set (and not for a video) was probably a step too far. At the very least, it would be a very awkward conversation with HR.

Anyway, Shane already knows that once they get going, the location isn't going to matter much at all.

He's set up the office as best as he could for what he and Ryan discussed. It's kind of small, with two desks and a small armchair recliner in between. Above the recliner is his butterfly specimen, as well as a couple of photographs either he or Sara took, and a framed record sleeve. It doesn't actually get used very much for office stuff. He and Sara both try to go to work for work whenever possible to keep something like a work/life balance. Sometimes Sara will draw in here, or Shane will nap on the surprisingly comfortable chair, but it's kind of an underutilized space.

He's cleared his desktop of knick-knacks at Ryan's request, to clarify which one belongs to him and which is Sara’s, just so they don’t get confused and fuck up one of her projects or something.

He hears a knock from the front door, and goes to let Ryan in. Sara's at yoga, and hitting up Target afterwards, so they have the place to themselves until about 4 or so. Shane's a little nervous, but not terribly so. He's mostly feeling anticipation. 

Ryan seems to be too. "Hey man, how you feeling?" he asks. He's wearing a pair of black combat boots, along with khaki-colored chinos and a similarly-colored shirt, a khaki-colored baseball cap, and a black leather belt. He’s also got his usual bag with him, almost like he’s heading off for work.

Shane would laugh if he didn't know exactly why Ryan was dressed like a low-budget version of a security guard. It's certainly not his usual look, even if he already owned these clothes. He wouldn't usually wear them together though.

"Weird. Excited," Shane says. "Maybe a little nervous." He takes a deep breath. "But, you know, I'm ready."

Ryan pats him on the shoulder. "You wanna go get changed?" he asks. "I'll get some other stuff set up."

"Sounds good," Shane says. "I, uh, I left the cuffs on the counter." He points awkwardly at the kitchen, where the cuffs are on the center island. He sees Ryan smirk.

“Good,” he says. “Keys too, right?”

“Yeah, keys too. I’m not an idiot.” What Ryan doesn’t know is that the keys came attached to the center links by a carabiner, and he probably wouldn’t have thought to grab them if someone hadn’t stored them so well. 

“I’ll come grab you when I’m ready,” Ryan says. “Get changed and think prisonerly thoughts, I guess.”

Shane's never worn handcuffs before. But it seemed right, when he thought about it for a minute, to use them for this kind of roleplay. And when he'd brought it up in that hotel room, Ryan had just said, "Yeah, sure, handcuffs can be fun," in a way that had made him feel a little bit naive. So Shane had said he'd borrow them from props, and here they are now, being clipped to Ryan's belt loop.

He already left the jumpsuit in the bathroom like Ryan had suggested, so he ducks in there to change. He strips down to his boxers and socks before stepping into the jumpsuit. He can feel his nerves growing stronger in the tiny "cell" that is actually their guest bathroom. What would it feel like to be locked in a box about this size all day, with nothing to do but contemplate your own terrible choices? Or even worse, to contemplate the injustice of a false arrest?

Time seems to drag ridiculously. There's no clock in here, and he'd left his phone deliberately in the living room for a more authentic feeling of being locked in. He knows what's coming though, and as he continues to wait, his stomach feels more and more tense.

He looks at himself in the mirror. Something about the orange makes him look tired, almost sickly. It's not a good color. He scowls at his reflection.

It's a trick of the outfit, but it makes him look sullen, almost dangerous.

"Madej!" Ryan yells through the door, and Shane jumps in surprise. "Up against the back wall, hands behind your head. Don't try anything stupid, you hear me?"

Shane's heart speeds up a little more as he moves to the back bathroom wall and leans his head against the cool tile. He links his fingers behind his neck. "Yes sir," he says.

The bathroom door opens behind him, and he knows it's just Ryan, but he still flinches when his hand grabs his left wrist and pulls it to the small of his back. He feels the clicks as it ratchets down just a little too tight. Then he pulls the other wrist down and repeats the procedure. The angle sucks; it pulls uncomfortably on his shoulders and his wrists already don't feel great. "Not so fuckin' tight!" he snarls, pulling out a low-key cowboy drawl.

He gets a light smack to the back of the head for his trouble. "Shut up. Nobody asked you." Ryan--no, guard Bergara, replies. His hand wraps around Shane's bicep and is pulling him backwards. 

He doesn't have much choice but to follow, because if he trips and falls, he's literally helpless. Even as he thinks that, Bergara shoves him slightly, and he bounces off the door frame. At least he's facing the right direction now. Bergara grabs his arm again, pushing him ahead.

"What the hell," Shane complains. "Gotta get your kicks beating up prisoners now, Bergara?"

"Oh, this part isn't the beating," Bergara says. "This part is purely because you're a cocky son of a bitch who pisses me off. The beating is going to be a little more about justice."

"Fuck your justice," Shane replies. "I didn't even do anything. You got the wrong guy."

"Sure." Bergara sounds supremely disinterested. "That's what they all say." With another shove, he pushes Shane into the office. Shane hears him shut the door behind them, and he turns to look at Bergara.

He gets slapped again in the back of the head. It's loud, but not particularly hard, just like last time. "Turn the fuck around," Bergara orders him. 

Shane does. He can feel Bergara pacing slowly back and forth behind him, and he sincerely hates that he can't see him. It's like having your back turned to a jungle cat.

"A little birdie told me that you know who's responsible for the riot that started in cell block B yesterday," Bergara says.

Shane can't stifle the urge to laugh because that sounds like a line straight out of a prison movie, which predictably gets him another smack to the head. "Nah," Shane says, shaking it off. "I was minding my own business. I wouldn’t know jack shit. Sir." He tacks the honorific sarcastically to the end.

"Well I know that's bullshit," Bergara replies. "You've never minded your own business a day in your life." Suddenly, he's grabbing Shane's arms and pushing him until he's pressed flat against the wall. It knocks a huff of air from his lungs. Shane feels his heart jump into his throat.

"Jesus, man," he hisses. “Easy on the merchandise!”

"I know you think you're some big man, but in here, I've got the power. I can make your life a nightmare." Bergara gives him a little shake. “So why don’t you show a little respect?”

Shane stays silent, because even though he knows this is just his friend Ryan, his heart is beating a little faster. He can feel how fucking strong the hands shoving him against the wall are, and the knee pushing against the back of his leg to keep him pinned in place kind of hurts. Plus, his own hands are still firmly locked at the small of his back.

It occurs to him that if he really tried to fight Ryan, he probably would lose. His heart actually skips a beat.

"So I'll make a deal with you. If you cooperate, I'll go a little easy on you. Make trouble, though, and I'll beat you harder than your daddy ever did. Got me?" 

Shane just nods his head. "Yes sir," he says. Of course, his father has never beaten him in his life, but that's neither here nor there.

He feels Bergara step back slightly, and then he's unlocking the cuffs. Shane sighs and rubs lightly at his wrists; when he glances at them, he sees some light pink marks. His stomach swoops.

"Take the shirt off," Bergara orders.

"It's polite to at least buy me dinner first," Shane says, because he can't help himself, but he fumbles to unbutton it. His fingers feel large and clumsy, like he's never unbuttoned anything in his life.

"Goddamnit, what did I say not two seconds ago?" Bergara snaps, and Shane flinches.

"I'm doing it, sir," he says. "Was just trying to make conversation."

"Unless it's a name, I don't want to hear it," Bergara says. So Shane takes a deep breath and peels the top half of the jumpsuit off of his shoulders. His hips are pretty skinny though, and the whole damn thing threatens to fall down.

"Uh…" he mumbles, almost to himself, holding one sleeve as it sags. Half of his boxers are hanging out on the other side.

Bergara makes an amused noise, and suddenly he's grabbing one sleeve where it fell against Shane's leg and takes the other from his hand. He pulls the jumpsuit up slightly so Shane’s ass is at least covered, and then his arms are around Shane's waist, tying the sleeves to keep the uniform in place. And that's Ryan, 100%, and not the character he's playing, and it helps. Shane feels more centered, which is good, since this is only going to get more intense.

"You're a real idiot, aren't you?" Guard Bergara is back now. "Can you tie your own shoes, or you need help with that, too?"

Shane doesn't say anything. He feels pretty exposed, which is patently stupid, because it's just his shirt that's missing. He's worn less at the pool, in the yard, even on camera. It's the threat, the knowledge of what's coming, that makes him feel so naked, not the actual skin exposed.

"Alright, then," Bergara orders, sounding almost bored. "Hands behind your neck in case I miss."

He takes a sharp little inhale at that, and laces his fingers protectively behind his neck. 

"Keep 'em there, or I'll cuff 'em for you," Bergara warns. Shane takes in the warning with a little nod. 

"I'm gonna use my flogger, see if that makes you more inclined to confess," Bergara says. "You tell me who got it started, and the beating will be over."

Shane takes a deep breath, and he hears Bergara take one too.

It lands against his shoulders with a bright, moderately strong sting, unlike anything he's experienced before. It doesn't have the same, thuddy weight he remembers from that horrible ruler, or the solid, painful pop that the spoon offers. It's a lot more spread out than the sting of a hand. He sucks a breath through his teeth more from instinct than anything.

It falls again, another grouping of stinging pain. It's very different than a spanking, but it's not bad. He could see it becoming a lot though, given time.

"Here we go, Madej," Bergara says, and then the beating really starts.

* * *

Ryan hasn't worked with this flogger too much. It's a purple mini flogger that he bought on a slightly drunken whim at the Renaissance Faire, with short lashes that are easier to aim and control, made of a cow hide that's got just enough weight to really sting if you put a little muscle behind it. 

He's felt it before though, tried it on himself and brought it to a club night once to see how it felt to take it. He liked it when he was on the reviewing end, which the Domme had offered as instruction, but he hasn't found a submissive to work with and see what they thought of his technique. Really, he knows enough to be careful and not hit too hard, and that you don't "wrap the sides" if you can help it. Hopefully that will get them through today.

Shane's right up against the wall, his hands behind his neck. Ryan's careful to stay away from the kidneys and tailbone. Pain, not injury, is what he's going for here.

Shane's pale skin is beginning to be striped with overlapping pink lines that are merging into a sunburn-like glow over his shoulders. 

It looks lovely. "You take the flogger like it was made for you," Ryan praises, before he remembers that it would be an odd thing for a guard to say to a prisoner.

Shane is resting his forehead against the wall, and every time the flogger lands, the muscles in his shoulders and back flex, attempting to get away from what Ryan is sure is becoming a pretty intense sting. He continues working the figure eights over Shane's bare skin.

They talked this out, and Shane had haltingly admitted that he was curious. They'd agreed that Shane would initiate it. Even so, it takes Ryan by surprise.

He pauses, and steps closer to run his hand down Shane's back. The skin is hot, a bright, painful shade of pink under Ryan's tan hand. And then suddenly Shane is moving.

He turns and grabs for the flogger. Ryan is surprised, and Shane actually gets his hand on it before Ryan shoves him against the wall. Ryan's hands are on Shane's wrists, pushing them hard against the plaster. He uses his shoulder to drive Shane's back against the wall, and hears a grunt. With his back as red as it is, that had to hurt.

He squeezes at the tendons in Shane's wrist Shane lets out a yell and releases the flogger. Ryan lets it clatter to the ground. They're both breathing hard from the short scuffle.

"You fucked up, Madej," he says, channeling his best impression of a hardass prison guard. "See, before, I was just looking for information. But now, you've made it personal."

He feels Shane testing his strength, to see if Ryan can actually keep him against the wall. But although Ryan weighs a little less than he does, he spends a lot more time lifting weights. It's not too hard to keep him there.

He feels Shane's pulse pick up under his fingertips. It sends a rush through his own system. 

"Fuck you," Shane says. His voice has a hard edge that doesn't sound much like him either.

Ryan yanks hard at Shane's arm and spins him so he's face-first against the wall, pushing one of Shane’s fists up towards the middle of his back. Shane lets out a yell. "Fuck, ow, take it easy!"

He clicks the handcuff onto Shane's other wrist and pulls it to the small of his back again. Shane doesn't protest when it clicks around the other one. Ryan carefully stoops to grab the flogger and sticks it in his back pocket 

"So, you got me in cuffs. Congrats, officer, guess I'm at your mercy." There's a touch of that weird cowboy accent Shane sometimes pulls out now and again, and Ryan has to bite the inside of his cheek so he doesn't laugh. 

"Damn straight you are," Ryan says. He grabs Shane's upper arm pretty hard and yanks him over to the bare desk.

The other one has a Tina Belcher figurine and some Copic markers, so he's pretty sure this one is Shane's. 

He bends Shane down over the desk, pushing him hard enough to hear him grunt.when his belly collides with the writing surface. Shane is struggling again, but he's got no leverage in this position, especially since he’s cuffed and Ryan's got both hands pressing right above his elbows.

"What the fuck?" Shane yells. "What's your fucking issue?"

"Think you need to learn a lesson," Ryan says. He hesitates for a second, because this is a new level of weirdness for them, but Shane knows this is coming, and knows his safe word, and he's very much not saying it. He lets go of Shane's arm with his left hand and yanks at the waist of the jumpsuit, pulling it down to reveal Shane's boxers.

"No. Fuck you! Fuck you!" Shane yells. He even tries to kick at Ryan, who blocks the donkey kick with a sweep of his leg.

Ryan's heart is hammering like mad in his own chest. "You need to cry uncle?" he asks mockingly, still in-character. He's gotta make sure, before he goes any further.

"Go fuck yourself," Shane hisses. So that's a no. 

Ryan pulls the flogger from his pocket. "That's not the right answer, Madej," he says, before bringing the flogger down hard against Shane's butt, being careful with his aim.

Shane flinches but the only sound he makes is a short gasp. Ryan brings it down a little harder. That produces a longer one.

He gives him about a minute at that level, and Shane is definitely feeling it, but also staying stubbornly silent. 

"Alright, that's it," Ryan says roughly. He and Shane both agreed to try this, but he can still barely believe it. He grabs the waistband of Shane's boxers and pulls them down just low enough to expose his butt and the tops of his thighs. 

Shane shakes his head. "Fuck you!" he yells. "Jesus Christ!" His ass is already pretty red, about the same color as his shoulders where the flogger landed. Ryan unbuckles his belt, and feels Shane flinch under his hand. He pulls it loose from his belt loops and awkwardly loops it in half with his free hand. Then he brings it down on Shane's ass, but not too hard. A belt can be pretty intense.

Shane actually whimpers when it lands.

He wants this to be painful, but he doesn't actually want to actually _ hurt _ Shane. He brings the belt down again against Shane's bare ass, but a little less hard "Until you tell me a name, this is going to keep going," he says, watching him carefully.

Shane sucks air through his teeth, but he's quiet now as the blows rain over him, slow and steady.

* * *

It hurts a lot, but it's almost from a distance. Shane knows it hurts, but he also doesn't really care, _ can't _ really care.

All he can really think is, tell me a name and it's over. But it doesn't need to be over, because Shane could take this forever, if that's what he needed to do. 

"Tell me a name, Madej," Bergara says. He's been doing this like Chinese water torture, each slap of the belt slow and unpredictable. But Shane is aware that Bergara has slowed down, that it's drawing to an end. "You're not gonna win any prizes by making me beat ya to shreds. Who started the riot?" 

"Ricky Goldsworth," he mumbles. It's not crying uncle, but he can sense that Ryan is getting ready to call it if he doesn't give a name, and it’s the only one he can think of right now. "Was Ricky, started it."

He hears the belt buckle clink against the desk. "Of course it is," he says. "Jesus. You could have said that ten minutes ago and saved yourself a lot of trouble. Now I gotta go talk with Goldsworth!" He steps back, and Shane can hear him threading the belt back through the loops of his pants. After a moment, he hears him leave the room, with the door shutting behind him.

He just rests against the table, even though Ryan's not holding him there anymore. Shane is perfectly content to stay like this forever, so he just closes his eyes. It only seems like a blink before Ryan is back.

He's surprised when he feels Ryan's hands pulling his boxers back up, and he winces as the elastic drags against his skin. _ Ow _.

"Sorry," Ryan says. His voice is much softer than when he left. "Here. Come on buddy, stand up," and his hand is on Shane's arm again, though much kinder. Shane stands, and feels a little head rush. Ryan steadies him.

"I grabbed some clothes for you," he says, and Shane realizes that Ryan is holding one of his hoodies. He takes it from him and clumsily slips it over his head, wincing at even the soft fabric against his back. 

It feels like he went to the beach without sunscreen: hot and a little bit crunchy.

"These too," Ryan orders, holding out a pair of basketball shorts. Shane giggles, because he only owns one pair, and that's entirely due to the BuzzFeed basketball game last year, but of course Ryan found them. _ Figures that you have a freaking homing beacon for basketball shorts. _He kicks out of the jumpsuit and manages to step into them without tipping over, though he has to use a hand on Ryan's shoulder to catch himself.

"There's no homing beacon," Ryan says, looking amused. "I figured you would want something soft."_ Oh shit, was that out loud? _

"Yeah, big guy," Ryan says. His eyes are fond now, nothing like the guard character he was playing. "Come on, come with me." He takes Shane's hand.

Shane allows Ryan to lead him into the kitchen. He watches as Ryan pours him a large glass of water and presses it into his hand.

"Drink that, buddy," he tells him, and Shane obediently downs the whole thing.

"You still thirsty?" Ryan asks. Shane shakes his head no. Ryan refills his glass anyway, and takes another from the cabinet for himself.

He watches as Ryan scrubs his hands, and washes his own when Ryan tells him. Then Ryan is digging through his cupboards.

_ Like an industrious little squirrel _.

"I'm really not that short," Ryan says, still sounding amused. "Or a squirrel, for that matter."

Shane watches him spread peanut butter on graham crackers and cut a banana into slices. The slices go on the crackers, and he passes three of them to Shane, keeping one for himself. "Eat that for me, please," he tells him.

Shane takes a bite. It's actually pretty delicious, and he manages a thumbs up for Ryan. 

"Good," Ryan says, sounding pleased.

It doesn't take long for Shane to finish off the graham cracker, peanut butter, and banana sandwiches, along with another half glass of water. Then Ryan takes his hand again and pulls him over to the couch.

Shane settles his head on Ryan's lap, and Ryan gently combs his fingers through Shane's hair. "You did great, Shane," he says. "Just relax, okay? Try to come back down to Earth."

And Shane is perfectly fine with that.

* * *

Shane is still kind of out of it. He's curled up on his side with his head on Ryan's leg, not unlike he might do when he's little. But Shane's still big, because he's not trying to suck or chew on his knuckles. He's still got a hand latched onto the calf of Ryan's pants though.

There isn't a huge difference, really.

He's quietly watching the screen, where a nature documentary from Shane and Sara's 'Watch it Again' list is playing. 

"How are you doing, Shane?" Ryan asks. "Can you talk to me for a minute?"

"Hey," Shane says. He sighs a little. "Wow."

Well, that was more than he got last time he asked. Shane's not much of a talker when he's got that high going from all those happy neurotransmitters. 

Well, okay, he was saying some goofy shit earlier, but Ryan knows that's not the same as actually talking. It's like holding someone to what they say after a dental procedure.

"How'd it go?" Ryan prodded. "You doing okay?"

"Mm-hmm," Shane says. He pushes himself up a little, but only enough to lean against Ryan's chest and throw an arm around him. "I'm great."

Ryan grins. "You are," he agrees, settling an arm carefully over Shane's back. It doesn't seem to bother him much. "How is your back?"

"Sunburned," Shane says.

That seems like a pretty apt descriptor from Ryan’s recollection. "What about your ass?" 

He feels Shane snort. "It hurts, you dick," he says, but it's a gentle complaint.

"Good to have you back, man," Ryan says. Shane just cuddles aggressively against his side. There's a long silence before Shane interrupts.

"I can't believe you actually got hit with that as a kid," Shane says. "Jesus, I thought the hand was bad. The belt is something else."

Ryan shrugs. "I mean, rarely," he says. He can only think of two times offhand, and both were when he was really getting towards the edges of too old to spank. "I was a teenager, not like, a little kid."

"Still," Shane says. He sighs and pats Ryan's chest. "It hurts a lot."

"I'm sure yours hurt way worse than anything I ever got from my parents," Ryan says, because he is. He'd thought near the end that if Shane didn't give him a 'name' soon, he'd have to just end it some other way because Shane's ass was starting to look like it might bruise, and his shoulders were pink. Ryan didn't want him to be completely miserable tomorrow. "If you would have given me a name earlier…"

"I didn't want to though," Shane says. "I wanted to see how much I could take."

Ryan is glad that he had slowed himself way down once he noticed that Shane had fallen into subspace. "You took plenty, big guy," he says. "You did great."

They change the channel to watch AHS but stay cuddled up like that up until Sara comes home. She walks in, looking a little sweaty with a yoga mat tucked under one arm and a few Target bags in each hand.

"Hi babe," Shane says. "Need help?"

"Hey Sara," Ryan says. “Technically I’m offering too.” Because if Shane gets up to help, Ryan will too, but he’s not about to make Shane get up.

"Hey boys," she says, nudging the door closed. "Nah, I grabbed them all." She carries the bags into the kitchen. "Did you have fun?"

"Yeah," Shane says. “We tried the new scenario.”

"I beat him within an inch of his life," Ryan adds.

Sara snorts. "Yeah, I can see he's ailing," she says, and Ryan looks at Shane’s face. He does look pretty content. She starts putting groceries away.

Ryan's really not paying much attention, which is why he doesn't see her go down the hallway. He hears her gleeful shriek though.

The neighbors probably heard it too, honestly.

"Holy shit!" And then she's coming out of the hallway with a flogger in one hand and a crumpled orange jumpsuit and set of handcuffs in the other. Ryan kind of wants to melt through the floor. "What have you guys been up to today?"

She's teasing, but Ryan is still dying. "Sorry," he manages. "Forgot to clean up. The big guy wanted to cuddle."

"You wanted it just as much," Shane says, unfazed. Sara folds the outfit and puts it on the counter.

"Did you guys steal these from work?" Sara asks, studying the handcuffs. "They look like real cuffs."

"Yeah, I got them from the prop closet," Shane says. "Jumpsuit too." She drops the cuffs on top of it.

"What about this thing?" Sara asks. She cracks the flogger like she's Indiana Jones, and Ryan sees her wince at the noise. "Ow, that sounds like it hurts," she adds.

"That one's mine," Ryan says, because if he doesn't, Shane is sure to. "From the Renaissance Faire."

"God, I thought you were kidding about that," Sara says, running her fingers through the purple lashes. "Why purple?"

"Lakers," Ryan says with a shrug. "Gold wasn't an option. Plus it's kind of pretty."

"If I had known that it was because of the damn sports ball team," Shane mumbles, "I would have refused."

Ryan is tempted to smack him again for being a brat. "Okay, enough from the peanut gallery," he says instead, because he knows exactly how red Shane's ass is. "Black just seemed a little cliche."

Sara puts it on top of the other paraphernalia. "I know you and Shane do this, but I kind of forget that this kind of thing was already your thing," Sara says. “You have access to like, supplies!”

Ryan just shrugs. "Yeah, I suppose. I don't have everything though."

"Like handcuffs, that's kind of a weird gap," says Shane.

"I've got handcuffs," Ryan says. "You just said you were bringing them from work, so I didn't bother to bring mine."

Sara laughs, and Shane shakes his head. "Of course," he says. "So basic. Of course you have freaking handcuffs."

And then Ryan gives in, and swats him on the outside of his leg, where it won't overlap with any damage from earlier. "You're such a brat," he says.

Shane just laughs.

"You gonna stay for dinner?" Sara asks.

Ryan nods. "Sounds great," he says. “I'd love to, if you'd have me.

"We'll always have you," she says, and against his chest, Shane nods.

“Yep. You can stay on the recliner under the butterfly,” he says. He changes his voice so it’s a little creepy. “We’ll keep you forever and ever and ever.”

“Way to ruin a sweet thing,” Sara says, joking, but Ryan just smiles.

“Nah," Ryan assures. "What sweeter thing could a serial killer possibly say?”

Shane cracks up against his chest.  
  


**Author's Note:**

> The little big guy and his Caregiver will be back soon! But check me out at littlebunnywrites.tumblr.com if you're bored, or want to tell me what kind of stuffed animal you think little!Shane might pick and why.


End file.
